"It will not." Antimony gave a critical eye first to the pot and then the small pile of discarded soil on the floor. After a moment, she swept the loose dirt further from the pot, as though its mere proximity could be enough to affect the plant and its potentially delicate energies.
She didn't bother telling Dhein that creating a Holy focus, while simple, was not exactly pleasant. At least for the Forsaken. She stood to retrieve one of the wooden staves and the roughly cut quartz crystal she'd examined prior. Setting the crystal into a small groove in the staff, Antimony wrapped her hand about it as though to hold it in place and set her other on the staff a few inches below that. She leaned against the staff, and the glow of her eyes flickered a brighter, whiter light for a moment as she willed Holy energy into existence. It set a fire between every bone in her hand, and in the moments she held onto the magic, it felt as though her flesh were peeling away. She hunched her shoulders and set her jaw against it.
As the Holy Light sunk from her fingers, through the crystal, and into the staff, she felt something else at the edges of her perception pushing, prodding, wriggling against her bones. It felt strange, cold, and when she let go of the staff - the newly crafted focus clattering to the floor - the sensation lingered for many long seconds. One hand shifted to grip the opposite arm loosely, and she watched the staff on the ground.
"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunder storm. And these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."